


Smile! You're On Camera (Drarry A.U.)

by charliesucks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, Fluff, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry and Draco, M/M, drarry fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-31 15:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8584252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliesucks/pseuds/charliesucks
Summary: Every day when Draco takes the London Underground to school, he waves at the security camera on his way down the escalator. He always wonders if anyone can see him, and someone does. Harry, who's just a few years older, works as a security guard at Draco's station. His shift is at the perfect time to see the sexy (but somehow adorable) teenage Draco twice a day. Harry falls for the smiley cutie, but what would happen if Draco stopped waving? Harry watches Draco get more and more sad each day, until one day his problems follow him all the way back to the station where Harry waits to rescue him.





	1. Draco - (Draco's POV)

I swiped my oyster card on the reader and hopped on the escalator. The cameras hung from the ceiling like they always did on the underground and I smiled my cutest smile waved at the one in front of me as the stairs descended. This was a daily ritual of mine, I waved at the cameras on my way to/from school every morning and afternoon. I liked to think that someone was watching when I did, some security guard. I hope he’s cute.

  
‘DRACO STOP,’ I thought. To dismiss thoughts of hot boys, I plugged in my headphones and scrolled through my weird library of Death Metal, Classical, and Alt-Emo. Deciding on the latter of three genres, I turned turned up some Panic! At The Disco… so much for my 'forgetting about hot boys' idea, now I’m thinking about Brendon Urie and the sweat on his giant forehead as he f- ‘DRACO NO.’

  
The car was crowded and it was raining up on the streets, in typical Londony fashion! Most people complained about the rain, but I never did cause I genuinely love it. Rain washes away the city’s grime and reveals London’s perfect mix of very old and very new architecture. Rain drums softly on every roof, hushing unwanted voices, calming the city’s bustle. Rain blows after you as you dash into a warm, dry building- the content of security washing over you only because moments ago you were caught in a storm. Everything is more real under the misty coating of rain.

  
Another good reason it that when it’s too hot, I can’t wear black jeans and a black button up and black sweatshirts (and a black raincoat since it's raining of course). Black everything! I also take pride in my collection of beautiful scarves, my favourite is a green and silver one that settles the harsh white of my hair and makes you wonder if my eyes are blue, green, or just grey.

  
“The next station is Oxford Circus,” the automated voice said. “Doors will open on the right hand side.” I switched lines to eventually get off at Baker Street, where I could walk several blocks to school. Whilst I had ridden the underground, the rain slowed to a mist, but the wind picked up a lot. Leaves were blowing all over, dancing in spirals on the ground like tiny tornadoes. I was grateful for my scarf protecting my neck from the bite of the wind, but my nose still felt pinched in the cold. Wrapping my hands around the thermos of tea I brought from home, I felt utterly content. This is the best kind of weather.

  
Soon after, I arrived in hell. *Cough* Er- I got to school. Masses of teenagers paved the hallway, sitting and standing in the worst possible place to be. Every day I could barely refrain from screaming ‘THE HALLWAY ISN’T FOR SOCIAL, GET OUT MY DAMN WAY.’ But I don’t, cause I’m the quiet kid… and speaking of quiet kid- Someone tripped me and I stumbled, but didn’t fall. One of my headphones fell out.

  
“Hey fag-” [a/n: SORRY] Ronald Weasley, the school’s biggest asshat, said. “Who’s dick you gonna suck today? Probably a teacher so you don’t fail your classes, huh?” I’m not sure why everyone thought I was gay (no matter how accurate they were), cause I’d never told anyone (other than my best and only friend), and/or done anything that would directly drive people to the queerest of conclusions. Having been an outcast before Ronald started picking on me, no one had ever wanted to date me. Now that he targeted me, no one got close enough to get hit if he misfired.

  
I tried to ignore Ronald and keep walking to my locker, but one of his minions grabbed my backpack. “Answer ‘im,” the giant teenager said.

  
“Uu-uh what?”

  
“I asked you a question, Snakey.” Ronald seemed really proud of his nickname for me, though I wasn’t sure why.

  
“No one,” I said truthfully… sometimes I wished otherwise.

  
“Right! Cause why the hell would anyone want to date you?”

  
He’s right, but also being a dick. So I ignored the sting that a similar comment would have done if it had come from someone else.

  
“Get out of my sight,” Ronald said. The other guy let go of me and I hurried onward.


	2. Harry - (Harry's POV)

I almost missed it. He was 3 minutes early today, usually he didn’t come until after 7:55, but luckily, I was already watching the feeds at 7:52. I blew the kid an invisible kiss as he waved at me. Well, not at me… at the camera. He couldn’t know who was behind the cameras, but I saw him every day. 

 

I called him ‘my prince’ cause this was the kind of boy that could have stepped out of a castle looking sexy in velvet robes, or drifted down from heaven wearing a silver gown; he could've even pulled off a black and sequined mini-dress on the red carpet accompanied by gorgeous celebrities that he would most certainly outshine by a million times. Can you tell I have a thing for guys in dresses? 

 

He was the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen. Hmmm, maybe he wasn’t human…. Hmmmm.. What are humans anyway? Are we just a species, or more than that, a concept? Is our grasp of existence created by the passing of time, or is the passing of time created by our grasp of existence…..?? Oops I’m getting existential. It’s easy to lose a train of thought on this job.

 

My job was boring as hell except for every day at precisely 7:55-8:00 and 4:35-4:40. Edward showed up and, without fail, waved at the security camera. I wanted to meet him and get to know him. He seemed so sweet and adorable. I often daydreamed about cuddling and buying him flowers. He was also hot, and I’d love to get into those tight jeans. 

 

I spent the rest of the shift spacing out, contemplating life’s greatest mysteries, or doing a bit of extra revising for school. While staring dreamily and unfocused at the screens and sipping my scalding coffee, my mind wandered. Turning over thoughts of my little prince and the classes I had tonight, and landed on my baby brother. I threw him a quick text: “what’s up dude? Micky D’s this friday or what.” And I guess technically, he’s not a baby- he’s a year 12 in secondary school; and he’s not literally my brother either, but that’s how we think of each other. We lived in a teeny little flat just around the corner from the station I worked at. And by teensy I mean small as fuck. There's a room with a twin bed and a fold-out bed sofa, one with a microwave, stove, fridge, and sink, and a bathroom. Not much of a house but definetly home. Even if I have sleep on the fold-bed-sofa-thing-(whyisntthereashorternameforthatI’mgonnagoogleit… it’scalledasleepersofa!) so that my baby brother can sleep in the bed.

 

Hours later, my phone’s alarm goes off at 4:30, telling me to start paying attention, and to look for Edward. Sure enough, he appeared immediately after, within the time slots I’d figured, and waved adorably. His smile made living worth it, I swear. I was caught between thinking he was cute and innocent, and wanting to bang him against a wall.


	3. Hermione - (Draco's POV)

The next morning was much dryer than the previous, yet still cold enough to please my winter-loving ass. Even after just the very brief walk to school, my lips were already chapped. Damn my delicate skin. Luckily I’m a fucking nerd, and nerds come prepared. There was chapstick in my pocket, and I slowed my pace to hold up my phone as a mirror and apply the lip-saving grace.

 

Of course though, while my attention to feet and graceful movement was elsewhere, I tripped on air and crumpled to the pavement in a clumsy mess of “oh I fucked up, but where’s the ground” themed dance routine. Laying there, I sighed, accepting my defeat and surrendering to Satan below, whose doorstep I now laid upon. Hearing a burst of giggles, I turned to see a load of short-skirted girls looking at a phone whose screen was undoubtedly replaying the majestic production of “Draco’s a Ditzy Fool.”

 

“Christ Malfoy! Are you alright?” my best and only friend exclaimed as she hurried over to me.

 

“I’m fine Hermione.”

 

“Well good, because I need your manly accompaniment to guide my damseled soul to the library, as I’ve got LOADS of books about to be overdue.” Her sarcasm was made funnier by the fact that, in lifting ten or fifteen books in her arms every day, she was bound to be ten times stronger than me and my scrawny noodle arms. In fact, she was quite well-built, and looked athletic despite her deep and daunting hatred of approaching a gym or sport field.

 

“Of course, m’lady,” I took her by the elbow and (was) lead (by) her to the school library. 

 

Later in French class, I had my drowsy head propped on my hands, my face squished into what must have been a vogue-worthy expression. I had been staring straight at the clock for approximately the last 20 minutes. It was getting SO close to the end of the day. Hermione sat next to me, actually working, as per usual. She nudged me and the hazy cloud of blissful boredom was ripped away from me, and I was shoved into panicked reality as my brilliant, but bloody terrifying professor addressed me for the second time.

 

“Monsieur Malfoy, tu dois d’écouter. Quelle est le form passé composé de la verbe ‘avoir’?” McGonagall demanded patiently. (Mr. Malfoy, you have to listen. What is the past participle of ‘to have’?).

 

“Er- avez eu…?” (- they had?).

 

“Oui, j’accept. Faire d’attention au future.” (Yes, I accept. Pay attention in the future).

I nodded and turned back to the clock. Then I grinned. 

 

“3… 2… 1…” the bell rang perfectly on my cue. I’d found that the clock in our classroom was exactly 28 seconds fast and took pride in being able to predict bells.

 

“WAIT-” Mdm. McGonagall said annoyingly. And I was like... Girl your time is up, the bell is rung, the notebooks are away, it’s Draco time now. “Students, n’oubliait pas your mini presentations that are due next class on Friday!” (don’t forget).

 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so glad she reminded us. I’m coming over. We need to finish that tonight, because I’m busy tomorrow,” Hermione told me.

 

“Ooohh, hot date?”

 

“Shut up.” She blushed. “I’ll tell you later, not here.”

 

We took the tube home and got off at Pimlico, my little station. I waved at the cameras and picked up Hermione’s wrist to try and force her to do it too, but she, with her nerd-strength, brushed me off effortlessly and then whacked my head. I grinned and she couldn’t help but smile, I had that effect on him. 

 

“Why do you do that? You’re so weird.” She was grinning though.

 

“I like to think that there’s a hot security guard on the other side that sees me every day,” I turned back to the camera and smirked in joking seduction, wiggling my eyebrows stupidly. “He’s fantasising about sex with this hot bod right now,” I joked, making a mockingly-sexual face with my eyes closed and tongue out while I slid my hands down my body and moaned disgustingly. Hermione whacked me again, and we burst into laughter.

  
“That’s stupid, you’re an idiot,” she giggled. 


End file.
